


The Boy and the Magpie

by harin91



Series: Sledgefu week [2]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: 'China Marine' book reference, Angst, Angst and Feels, Hidden Moments, M/M, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 17:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18743725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harin91/pseuds/harin91
Summary: ‘We enjoyed nightly movies in the regimental theater. There were no coconuts logs to sit on “à la Pavuvu,” but the screen was placed so we sat on the grassy slope of a steep hill and had a perfect view. Before the picture show would commence, a buddy and I would lie on our backs and watch the numerous shooting stars and marvel at their beauty.'(Eugene Sledge - ‘China Marine’)- or, boys sharing stories under the starry sky





	The Boy and the Magpie

**Author's Note:**

> This is an entry for the **Sledgefu week 2019 - Day 2: Hidden Moments**  
>  Please note that this work is **not beta-ed and English is not my first language** which means I'm sorry for any mistake you may find in it. This is also the reason why I haven't written Snafu's dialogues attempting a Louisiana accent... I wouldn't have done it right. Just assume he speaks like we all know!  
> Also be careful: this work contains **angst**
> 
> The idea comes from a scene in Eugene Sledge's book _'China Marine'_
> 
> See the end for more notes :)

_ ‘We enjoyed nightly movies in the regimental theater. There were no coconuts logs to sit on “à la Pavuvu,” but the screen was placed so we sat on the grassy slope of a steep hill and had a perfect view. Before the picture show would commence, a buddy and I would lie on our backs and watch the numerous shooting stars and marvel at their beauty.’ _

_ (Eugene Sledge - ‘China Marine’) _

 

The night sky was clear and the air was pleasantly windy, a rare change from the usual humid and still atmosphere of Mobile in late May.

The wind carried the music and clamour of the wedding after party farther than what on most days, so that where Eugene was sat, packing his pipe and looking at the empty fields surrounding the reception venue, he could perfectly hear the laughters and the swing music blending together wonderfully.

Sid’s wedding had been magnificent and beautiful: both him and Mary Houston had looked their absolute best standing at the altar, happy and ready and full of love. Eugene had felt proud and honoured to be able to be by their side as Sid’s best man and for once since his return home he had been able to enjoy a day of excited joy and carefree spirits.

The afternoon had turned into evening and then into a night. The plantation house chosen for the reception was by then only occupied by the younger guests, those more inclined to keep partying and looking for a dame or a gentleman to share a dance with.

Eugene had graciously danced with the bride and with Sid’s mother, but by the time the sun had set he had gone back to being his usual wallflower self, his whole ‘Eugene Sledge don’t dance until Eugene Sledge wants to’ demeanour, by then perfectly known by the entire youth community of Mobile.

He had then left the party, excusing himself for a smoke, and wandered the empty fields for a while before sitting down on the tender night grass to get his pipe ready while immersed in the starry sky and crickets’ songs.

 

The white smoke of Eugene’s pipe slowly claimed the air, lifting towards the vividly shining stars in dissolving puffs. It was the only indicator of his presence in the field, and the sign Sid dutifully followed to join him on the grass, smiling knowingly with cheeks red for the alcohol consumed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Eugene scolded him as soon as he felt his best friend’s presence by his side: “You’re married now, Phillips. You’re expected to never leave your wife’s side, especially when she’s ready to dance all night.”

“I said I needed a break,” explained Sidney: “And believe me, I did. These shoes are killing me worse than our old marine boondockers.” he claimed.

“We’re gonna need a corpsman checking for blisters when the party is over.” said then Eugene around the stem of his pipe, making Sidney laugh.

Silence and stillness surrounded them briefly then, shaken only by the distant sounds of the party.

“Man, the stars are so clear tonight!” exclaimed suddenly Sid, laying down fully on the grass to better look up at the sky: “I wish I could see them so clearly in the Pacific, too. But even when there were no flares and flashes, there were too many palms and trees.” he said, voice thin and mind lost in the echo of memories.

Eugene laid down next to him, looking up to distinguish the few constellations he knew the name of, perfectly painted in the spring sky: “I saw them frequently in Okinawa, when the war ended.” he simply said, lifting his arm to point at the curve of the  _ Ursa Major _ with his index finger: “I still don’t know much about stars.”

“How were them, though?” asked calmly Sid, his tone almost dreamy as the euphoria of the wedding day was starting to wash away.

Eugene closed his eyes.

 

\- - - - -

 

They used to lay down side by side on the grassy slope of a steep hill near the tent camp, waiting for movie night to start, with the distinct  _ toc toc toc toc _ of the film wheel rolling on the projector. They were usually the first to arrive right after chow, taking their time to choose their favourite spot to sit and smoke and chat looking up at the night sky in clear summer days, trying and often succeeding in catching falling stars. War was over and they needed to adjust to the peacefulness, the calm and stillness, the good weather of Okinawan nights after months of torrential rains and humid cloudy days.

Almost as if they already expected the hill’s side to be soon packed with marines interested in watching the movies in the regimental theatre, they huddled close as soon as they sat down, laying on their back with their eyes fixed on the limpid sky, only a handful of inches apart, like they still needed the closeness and comfort, the warmth of a known and trusted foxhole buddy.

 

Shelton would chain smoke all evening, puffing upward to cloud their vision intermittently. When the vision got clear again, he sometimes pointed to a cluster of stars or another, saying something completely made-up about them.

Eugene would listen intently and add a witty reply every now and then, knowing fully well they both knew nothing about the constellations.

“That’s the Crab.” would say Shelton, pointing vaguely at a low line of stars.

“The  _ Cancer _ , you mean.” would correct him Eugene.

“Nah, the Crab.” would insist the Cajun, pausing his explanation to take another drag of his cigarette.

“And what’s its story?” would provoke him Sledge, just to make the other talk some more. He had grown accustomed to Snafu’s low Louisiana drawl. It calmed him and soothed him like not many other sounds could, in the middle of the Pacific.

“It once crawled into a bunk in Pavuvu and got set on fire by some brave marines.” Shelton would say, a smirk morphing his thin mouth around the filter of his cigarette: “Then got kicked so hard he got flown into the sky.”

“Oh I’m so sure.” would laugh Eugene, looking at Snafu’s star-lightened profile instead than at the constellation the other was talking about.

 

Shelton was good at telling stories, when he felt like it.

Eugene always thought it was because he had always said his family was numerous, so he could easily picture Shelton entertaining his younger siblings and cousins with imaginative bedtime stories, in the humid evenings of the bayou.

Some other times, Shelton just had crude jokes to add to the conversation, like than time he pointed at some stars and said: “You see that? That’s Snafu’s Pecker.” thinking he was oh so funny.

“Where?” had replied Sledge, not missing a beat.

“Right there, Sledgehammer.” had said again his buddy, not diverting his pointing finger from a random spot of the universe.

“Aw I’m so sorry, Snaf. I can’t see it. Must be too small.” he joked back, making the other marines already sitting around them snort and laugh at Shelton’s expense.

 

Eugene much preferred those nights when Shelton would let his imagination loose and tell false fairy tales and myths, just for the sake of entertaining Eugene, filling the space between the silence of a war-less night and the gaps in their still grim and desperate thoughts.

One night he propped himself on his elbows, looking intently up at a small white star Eugene had just spotted, so tiny and isolated it was impossible to focus one’s gaze directly on it or it would disappear against the carpet of dots behind it.

He waited some calm, quiet minutes before saying: “That’s the Boy.”

“Uhm?” had hummed Eugene around the stem of his pipe, glancing back at Shelton’s moonlighted sharp features and luminous eyes: “And what’s its story?” he asked quietly, like he was used to every time Shelton seemed to have something ready to share.

“He was maybe a prince of ancient times or something. He liked adventures and nature and walking in fields and forests, but his health was poor and his parents wouldn’t let him out of their castle.” started to narrate Shelton, his tone unusually solemn and earnest.

“What did he have?” asked Eugene curiously.

“A heart condition.” said immediately Shelton looking directly at him, and Sledge’s breath caught in his throat, suddenly concerned. He had never revealed to any of his marine buddies about his murmuring heart. Did Shelton… how could he know?

“You see, Sledgehammer: his heart was fragile because it was made of crystal. It shone of a pure, bright light on the boy’s chest and brought awe and peace to those around him.” explained Shelton, diverting his gaze from Eugene’s to look back at the lone star: “His folks wished to protect him, but he wanted so bad to see the world and meet all kind of animals and plants, that he snuck out of the castle and started wandering.”

He paused, lighting another cigarette and looking around them to make sure they were still the only two marines already occupying the hill. He then laid down completely, shifting down so that his and Eugene’s heads were aligned, so close, their arms and hands almost brushing. They were looking at the same portion of sky.

“In the dept of the woods, he met a Magpie.” he said, then slightly smiled: “Such avid creatures they are. Always looking for the good things, the shiny stuff. They crave beauty and they want it for themselves.”

“Did the magpie want the boy’s heart?” asked Eugene, running ahead of the narration. He was feeling his whole body tingling, his head spinning. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, like during rushes of adrenaline on the battlefield. But there was no war around them: only the steady breath of Shelton beside him, his soothing deep voice.

“As soon as she saw him.” confirmed the Cajun. He smoke some more, in calm and deliberate puffs of white dissolving in the air above them: “She asked for his heart and the boy… he gave it to her.”

“Like that?” asked Eugene in a single breath, sitting up in surprise.

“Yeah, just like that. The magpie couldn’t believe it herself. She had just obtained the most precious and pure object in the world. She cherished it and tried to keep it polished and pristine, but she had clumsy long wings and a sharp beak and she soon realised she was going to ruin or break the heart if she kept it with her.” Shelton closed his eyes and when he reopened them they looked more shiny, like they were layered with moisture: “So she flew into the sky and placed the boy’s heart among the stars. It was no longer hers, but it would keep shining forever up there, where she could always know it was safe.”

Eugene could only look at Shelton by then, his big grey eyes full of stars.

He wanted to say something, ask for a continuation of the story, but kept quiet in the silence of the night and laid back down. Shelton didn’t look back at him and kept smoking.

They were there, on a Pacific’s island, in mid August air, close enough to touch, silent enough to feel their heartbeats melt with the tune of the universe.

 

\- - - - -

 

Sid was humming a song beside him when Eugene’s mind resurfaced from his memories.

“What’s that constellation up there, Gene?” he asked suddenly, pointing at a small curve of four tiny stars in the middle of the sky, almost resembling a bird’s pointy beak. Eugene didn’t know their name, but he figured he could try to humour his drunk friend.

He tried to imitate Shelton’s somber tone, the one he cherished so deeply in his memories, and replied: “That’s the Magpie.”

“Oh, right?” asked Sid, smiling back at him: “Do you know the story?” he asked again.

“She once loved a boy.” said Eugene and he suddenly felt the urge to cry.

He almost couldn’t contain tears from spilling and his voice to waver as he added: “And the boy loved her back.”

 

\- - - - -

 

**Notes:**

 

Not much to say except I'm sorry?

Also, as I was planning this fic I thought there were different stars in Okinawa than in Alabama and then realised the island is above the Tropic of Cancer. I am an idiot.  
(I'm even more of an idiot if you think that I've actually been in Okinawa some years ago and I should have known!)  
(it's also clear I know nothing about stars)

Anyway... I'll be participating to the Sledgefu week (yet have to finish all the prompts so I'm maybe going to miss a day or two) and I'll be cross-posting my fics here and on my Tumblr and my fanart only there, so keep an eye on: [brightly-painted-canvas](brightly-painted-canvas.tumblr.com)

Hope you liked this one! :)


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